


25 Favourite place #writober2020

by YungWenLean



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: M/M, Power Play, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YungWenLean/pseuds/YungWenLean
Summary: Some downsides of living in the Iserlohn space fortress is that it's a fortress, in space,  surrounded by the enemy. Some upsides are tons of girls, good friends, also commuting to work is super easy, especially if you sleep over at Attenborough's. A hothead pilot needs an enemy, the competition for the biggest idiot in the world is tough, and not all that glitters is gold.
Relationships: Dusty Attenborough/Olivier Poplin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	25 Favourite place #writober2020

**Author's Note:**

> What do we want?  
> Hot Poplin sex!  
> When do we want it?  
> When don't we?! 
> 
> Another #writober2020 https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594788 -compatible thingy, you know the drill.

It was half past eleven when Dusty and Olivier stumbled into Dusty’s room. Dusty headed straight to the bar cabinet and Olivier sunk into the couch. Dusty opened a bottle – you could hear the sealing clicking when it broke – and poured up some of the content into coffee cups. Olivier looked at his coffee cup sceptically. 

– What is this?

Attenborough read the label. 

– “Peaches and cream special new years edition 798 0,5 liters sold exclusively at Cosmostore”... my guess is it was on discount in a spaceport.

– Why is it glittering?

– I don’t know. Peach? Stop whining and bottoms up!

They emptied their cups and both winced.

– If I ever wanted to get Cazerne’s kids drunk, this would be perfect.

– Will I pee glitter now?

– You are literally the biggest idiot I know. 

Poplin raised his finger.

– I am not taking that personally, because it says more about your clique than me.

Attenborough was stunned, trying to figure out how that was supposed to be a good comeback. He started getting out of his uniform, repeating the automatic motions he’d gone through thousands of times since he got into the Academy.

– I have some pointers! First, if you are going to strip, you should have some music on. Second, you should be a babe like Frederica. Third…

– I’m not an expert like you are, but shouldn’t you be throwing money at me?

Poplin searched through his pockets but found nothing but chewing gum. He pointed at the bottle. 

– I can buy you a drink. You know, we should have a strip club here, not that we are an independent nation! It’s the only thing missing on Iserlohn. This is my favourite place in the universe! It has everything you need, but a strip club!

– Poplin, can I please remind you that we are in a fortress, surrounded from all sides?

Poplin shrugged. 

– So? I’m a hothead pilot, I need someone to fight against! And I don’t have to cook, I don’t have to do the laundry...

– Might be because you leave your dirty socks here.

Poplin stood up, walked up to a wall and waved his hand like a real estate agent.

– There is real fake tapestry!

– There is not a single pumpkin patch in the entire greenhouse system.

– There are tons of girls.

– Will last you five years and we can’t produce new ones at your tempo.

– The commute to work is short! 

– Because we basically never leave work.

– Oh come oooon! Work is fun here, and the food is alright and you can have seconds, and then you can go to a movie, and then maybe get some beers or whatever, and all my friends are here, and we can just go to your place like this… Wait! Why are you quiet? And why am I saying all these nice things about you?

– It’s called a rhetorical strategic retreat, and it’s amazing how you never learn. Do they teach you any strategy at all in piloting school?

It took less than a second for Poplin to tackle Attenborough onto the bed and hold him down. He smiled triumphantly.

– Yes, you get the bad guys and don’t get killed. 

Dusty put up a good fight, but Poplin had all the advantages - the element of surprise, being on top, knowing the first thing about wrestling. The only thing Dusty could accomplish was to steal kisses while his wrists were being tied together with Poplin’s cravat. Satisfied with the result, Poplin straddled Attenborough’s thighs and looked down at his catch. Dusty pretended to try to get away, but Poplin pushed his hands down again.

– You are good with your head, Attenborough, but you underestimate the power of pure physical strength.

They kissed and when Poplin broke the kiss he sat up again and slowly started to undress. Just like Attenborough he knew how to fold his uniform according to the regulations. He folded it like he had done a thousand times since he had enlisted – by throwing it on the floor. 

– I’d tip you, but as you can see…

Dusty wiggled his fingers, showing that his hands were tied. He didn’t mind, the view was great. Sometimes, he thrust his hips up a little, just to see Poplin’s body awake and the muscles tighten to keep Attenborough down. When Olivier was naked from his waist up, he leaned down and held down Dusty’s hands while unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, button by button. The position gave Atenborough a great opportunity to once again kiss Poplin on the mouth, and as their kisses intensified Poplin was less and less capable of focusing, and more and more drawn into trying to feel and taste as much as possible.

Suddenly, Poplin felt Attenboroughs teeth on his lower lip and hand on his throat. Poplin had been too caught up in the kissing to notice the knot come undone.

– Fuck.

– On your back.

They rolled over, Dusty’s hand on Poplin’s throat, smiling, until they had switched positions. Had this been a real fight, Poplin could easily have broken Attenborough’s arm. But this was real in a different sense, and Poplin stretched his arms over his head, surrendering. 

– Was this one of your clever strategies, vice admiral?

– Yes, it’s a classic called “fucking your way up to the top”. 

Poplin laughed. Dusty’s shirt was wrinkled, a button was missing, and he undressed as Poplin watched. When he was done with the top, he undid his pants and slid his hand inside of his boxers, repositioning his erection into a more comfortable position. 

– Excuse me sir, I could use a hand here. You are supposed to treat POW:s nicely!

Attenborough couldn’t keep a straight face, but he unzipped Poplin’s fly and cupped his hand over the hard on through the briefs. Poplin panted. Dusty kept slowly moving his hand over the bulge, as he kissed his way up from where a string of hair run down from Poplin’s belly button to the briefs, over his stomach, chest, collarbone and neck, until his lips were at Poplin’s ear and he whispered :

– What about a pants exchange? I take off yours, you take off mine? 

Poplin nodded. Dusty rose and stepped down from the bed, and when Poplin was done getting off his socks – he would never compromise with the order of socks and pants – Dusty pulled off Poplin’s uniform pants, almost started folding them, then realised what situation he was in and threw them on the floor. While Attenborough was going through the moment of uniform confusion, Poplin pulled Attenborough’s pants and boxers to his knees, and pressed his face against the crotch, inhaling the scent and feeling the silky skin of the cock against his lips. The following minutes were a chaos of Dusty wiggling out of his pants with his cock in Poplin’s mouth. Poplin wouldn’t let go and it felt that he’d rather bite than let Dusty slip out even for a second. 

After a while Attenborough had to ask Poplin to slow down and he got a chance to return the favour, kneeling on the floor with Poplin stretched out on the bed. Attenborough needed a drink of water and when he returned they went back to kissing and play wrestling on the bed – much more cautiously this time. They settled down on their side, in a sixty nine position. For a while they built up the pressure by alternating between pleasuring and watching. Dusty was leaning his head on his hand, his other hand tracing Olivier’s ear, jaw and throat as Olivier swallowed him to the base. Olivier held his hand lightly around Dusty’s cock and squeezed a little every time Dusty’s tongue hit the right spot. After a while, neither had the patience for turn taking anymore, and the sighs, grunts and moans got more intense. 

Dusty felt that he was getting close. He couldn’t see Olivier, but from what he felt Olivier was working his shaft with his hand, his face close to the tip. Without thinking, Dusty warned:

– Be careful, you’re within the firing range of Thor Hammer!

There was a moment of complete stillness. Then Poplin cracked up. Dusty couldn’t help but laugh as well, but Poplin was useless for several minutes, unable to utter a whole sentence, hardly able to catch his breath before a new burst of laughter came over him.

– This! Was the most! Stupid! Thing! I’ve ever heard!

He managed to sit up, at least halfway, but broke down again when he saw Dusty’s messed up hair and guilty grin.

– “Thor Hammer’s range”! I can’t! You are the biggest idiot I know! And _I’m here_!

Dusty couldn’t but agree. 

– I was _this_ close too! _This close_ , Dusty!

– So was I!

– “Thor Hammer’s firing range”! I will never ever ever _ever_ let you live it down!

– That was _not_ a clever strategy.

– Star tactician has spoken! 

– So… Now that we’ve agreed that I’ll never ever be able to talk about Thor Hammer again… Let’s regroup?

– Just shut up, Attenborough. 

They got back to the sixty nine and despite Poplin breaking up in giggles from time to time – the way it made his throat vibrate was not bad thing – in a couple of minutes they were back in action. Dusty came first, he almost blacked out after the buildup. Poplin followed soon after and Dusty licked him clean as he was panting through the aftershock. Dusty crawled over into Poplin’s embrace.

– You jizzed glitter. 

– What, seriously?

– No. 

– Damn.

– The competition for biggest idiot is tough tonight.

– Mmmm, “in Thor Hammer’s firing range!”... 

Poplin laughed to himself, Attenborough’s head moved on his chest.

– Ok if I sleep over? It’s a bit of a walk home.

– I thought there was no commute?

– Shut up.

– If you’re only after my razor, you can have it.

With his arm firmly around Attenborough, Poplin wiggled and stretched for a few seconds to find a comfortable sleeping position. 

– I’m telling you, this is the best place in the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> "Thor Hammer's range" *snorts*


End file.
